A Study In Wych-Kyn
by Angel-In-221B
Summary: The demonic murder of a Consulting Criminal's secret wife leads Wych Hunter Molly Hooper seeking the help of Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes. Can Sherlock keep up with the Supernatural world or will his demons get the better of him? Sherlock AU Rated M for horrific nature and graphic imagery.


**Hello my lovely readers,**

**This is Chapter One of my Sherlock AU that I've been harping on about on Tumblr. I just want to clarify some things before I give you the Chapter. The time setting of this fiction is a bit wibbly wobbly. I'd say its the brink of modernisation in London. It will not be 100% 'The Haunting of Alaizabel Crey' universe as it doesn't fit with the story for this. There is however, some Supernatural references in there. If there's any queries confusion just drop me a question and I'll be happy to answer them for you. I will be updating this weekly and it is pretty long, so bear with me people. The story is written but it is being edited every time a chapter is published. So remember to tell me what you think and follow! :)**

**Leama :)**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It was raining again as Molly Hooper stepped out of the black carriage and onto the cobbled road. The dull drum of rain falling onto her umbrella drowned out the sounds of the street. She looked ahead at the door in front of her; it was nothing special, a black door with a bronze knocker and numbers in the middle. '221' it read, home of the infamous duo, Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

She had heard many stories about the brilliance of Sherlock Holmes. The sceptics would argue he is a freak and needed to be locked away from the public. The superstitious thought of him as the Wych-Kyn and should be feared. Molly would laugh at the paranoia of the people. She found it intriguing how the human mind liked to shun away any changes or abnormalities as if it were an infectious disease. If she was true to herself, Molly was a bit wary of working with Sherlock Holmes. From what she learned from Mike Stamford, Sherlock was a man of reasoning and science and her line of work was more illogical and improbable that even _she_ sometimes takes a step back at the sheer ridiculousness of the scene presented before her.

Images of the slashed girl on her slab at the morgue quickly drained any doubt away. She could clearly see the precision the killer had used to shred the skin to thin, equal in width strips, revealing her organs. Upon closer inspection she could see the burn of sulphur where the weapon met the skin and the murder weapon changed to claws, the sign of wych-kyn. The small vial containing a sample of the skin was pressed against her thigh, reminding her of the reason she was here in the first place. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind and stepped up to the black door. With bated breath she knocked on the three consecutive times and waited.

* * *

Sometimes John wonders why he even puts up with Sherlock Holmes. A normal man would have left the moment he was '_deduced'_ by the detective. A man who knows all your secrets from just a mere glimpse was a dangerous man. Yet John Watson stayed, he tolerated the jibes to his intelligence, the mockery at his ability to love his wife and his need to be loved back. He stayed because by God, Sherlock Holmes made his life that much more interesting and worth waking up to every day.

So when John Watson entered 221 Baker Street and found his friend dissecting what looked like a human stomach, he let out a sigh and made his way to the kitchen. He silently filled the kettle up and made his way over to the stove. He placed the kettle on the stove and set up a tea tray. The shrill whistle of the kettle penetrated the silence in the apartment. John poured the boiling water into a teapot and brought the tray to the coffee table. He poured two cups of tea and added two teaspoons of sugar and a dash of milk into one cup and one spoon of sugar on the other. He took the black tea with him and placed it on the arm of his chair and opened the newspaper he had found on the table.

Through all this Sherlock Holmes had finished his dissection and after washing his hand made his way over to the chair opposite John's, picked up the cup of tea from the table and sat down. John was so immersed in the paper that it took him a while to register that there was someone at the door. The three consecutive knocks reverberated through the building. John looked at Sherlock, who had a frown on his forehead. John raised his eyebrows at him, who in return shook his head. John placed the paper on the table and made his way down the stairs. He reached the door and opened it to a woman holding a black umbrella with a smile on her face. John saw her brown eyes franticly dart down his body. _Just like Sherlock._ The woman looked at his face and gave a small smile. She stuck her hand out for him to shake and introduced herself.

"Good afternoon Doctor Watson, my name is Doctor Molly Hooper and I would like to discuss a case with you and your colleague, Mr Sherlock Holmes." She smiled as John took her hand and gave it a shake.

"Ah, please come in. Sherlock is upstairs" John said as he stepped aside to let Doctor Hooper in. As she passed him across the threshold, John tried to deduce anything about the woman.

With a quick scan of her body John could see that she was a very small woman. Her clothing was a stone grey suit, which had him raising his eyebrows. It was rare to see a woman in male clothing; however, whilst other women wore genuine clothing for men, Doctor Hooper's outfit seemed to be made for her. Although a married man, John still appreciated the female anatomy in a from afar and he could clearly see the way the seemingly masculine suit complimented Doctor Hooper's curves. The woman's face although elfin and somehow childlike, held the weight of all she had seen and experienced. He felt that Doctor Hooper's life has seen more devastation and evil than the he would have liked. Her walk was that of one who was carrying of the world on her shoulders, a gait that he has only seen in Mycroft. A soft cough brought John back to reality and he saw Doctor Hooper standing in the hall with a small smirk and eyes twinkling with mirth. John felt himself flush at his obvious staring. He cleared his throat and gestured for the Doctor to follow him upstairs.

* * *

Molly giggled to herself as a red Doctor Watson led her up the stairs. She saw him raise his eyebrows at her clothing and she _almost_ rolled her eyes at the predictable reaction. She was aware that her choice of clothing brought forward lots of questions from both men and women. However, from a young age she had learnt that people do not necessary like odd things. Besides it was impractical for her to be wearing puffy dresses and ridiculously long skirts, given her chosen career. Molly silently followed Doctor Watson up a flight of stairs. She could see why Sherlock Holmes trusted Doctor Watson; he had an aura of calm and patience. If his demeanour was anything to go by, Molly would say Doctor Watson was a loyal and trustworthy man.

Molly followed Doctor Watson into a room which at first seemed to be a storage room, but the tell tale of life had Molly thinking otherwise. She could see tea tray balanced on a thick tome on cluttered coffee table; the bookcase in the corner overflowed with books; the mantelpiece carried the skull of what seemed to be a middle aged man. Molly felt her eyebrow rise at the skull and she grinned at the thought of the Great Sherlock Holmes conversing with the skull. The Consultant Detective himself sat on a black rigid armchair. Molly took in his frantic black curls and his stormy grey eyes. Even whilst sitting she could see the Detective had quite some height on her, He was thin almost bordering unhealthy, which gave his face a sharp, ethereal look. If she did not have the Wych-Kyn sensor, Molly would not hesitate to throw the bottle of Holy Water at his face. Molly jolted out from her analysis by a soft cough coming from beside. She turned to see Doctor Watson glancing between Sherlock Holmes and herself. She turned back to see Sherlock Holmes frowning at her, as his eyes darting across her body. "_He's deducing_." thought Molly.

"Please sit Doctor Hooper." Doctor Watson said as he gestured to a brown armchair. Molly gave him a small smile and sat on the chair, getting comfortable.

She turned to Sherlock Holmes and gave him a smile.

"Tell me Mr Holmes, what you see?" Molly said. She was genuinely curious as to whether he saw her as Wych hunter or not. Whilst the existence of Wych-Kyn and the hunters that acme with them was known, most hunters like Molly tried to keep as discreet as possible. She saw a look a surprise flash through Sherlock Holmes's eyes at her question.

"Doctor Hooper, are you asking me to tell you what I've deduced from you?" Mr Holmes clarified.

"Yes, I am." Molly replied. "Do not worry Mr Holmes, your deduction will not offend me at all. All you are doing is simply replaying information of me that I am already aware of." Molly grinned at Mr Holmes, challenging him.

"Very well." He replied, taking a deep breath. "I'll start with your appearance: you look like you are in your early thirties; you have a small body which can be mistaken for a mousey personality is one of your advantageous disguises. However, you have a far more superior physical strength than most women your age; your attire although masculine, fit you perfectly, suggesting they were personally tailored for you. This shows the wealth that you obviously have. Your actual choice of clothing tells us more; you obviously have a physically straining career possibly involving a lot of running; I can see that you are carrying two guns with and possibly more weapons are hidden away. Going by all these I would say you are from Scotland Yard but they are too incompetent to hire a woman. However you _do_ work with the Yard like me. But the question is what?"

Molly's eyebrows shot up, _he couldn't figure it out._ She internally grinned at the thought. She could Doctor Watson's eyes widen at his friends deduction.

"Correct Mr Holmes." Molly said, "My career does require a huge amount of running and I do work alongside the police sometimes. However, you failed to notice that I am also a Pathologist." Molly saw Holmes's eyebrows shoot up at that. "You also failed to notice that I am also a Wych Hunter." Molly could see Doctor Watson's eyes grow even wider. She turned to Holmes to see him scoff at her.

"Doctor Hooper, are you trying to tell me that Wych-Kyn is real?" Holmes said. Molly grinned at Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes that's exactly what I'm telling you." She replied.

"Do you have any evidence to support you claim?" Holmes retorted.

"Tell me Mr Holmes, what do you know of the Fraternity?" Molly asked. She saw Holmes frown at that.

"The Fraternity was just a conspiracy theory created to try and disgrace the rich and wealthy." Holmes replied.

"Wrong. The Fraternity was a cult that was made up of the rich and wealthy, all intent on one purpose; Stay rich and powerful by any means necessary, even using the Wych-Kyn as a means. Ask you brother, Mr Mycroft Holmes; he had to clean up the mess by the Fraternity." Molly explained. At the mention of the Senior Holmes both men exchanged a look.

"You have a case for us. What is it?" Holmes asked deftly changing the subject. Molly grinned at Sherlock Holmes's behaviour.

"What does the name Emily Rose mean to you?" Molly asked. She saw two blank faces look at her.

"Nothing." Doctor Watson replied.

"Not even when she is a certain Professor James Moriaty's ex-wife?"


End file.
